One Hell of A Houseguest
by INU FANGIRL112
Summary: Inspired by "Complicated Simplicity". Jessica Whimsiflora has never been 'normal', and being an anime fan doesn't help the fact. So when she finds herself in the world of our favorite Earl Phantomhive and his loyal Demon Butler and winds up moving in with them, there's no doubt that chaotic hilarity, supernatural adventure and even some romance is bound to ensue! R&R PLEASE!


_**Saturday, June 8****th****, 2013**_

_**1:49 A.M**_

_'**Ambrosia Honey' Gentleman's Club, Nightshade Boulevard, Mysticia Village**_

The full moon, stained a brilliant crimson, hung like a glorious jewel in the crown of the clear summer night sky, a dazzling array of glistening stars surrounding it as it cast a soft pink glow upon the dark, sleeping town. Nearly every building lay quiet, leaving only the dim, flickering light of the streetlamps to light up the concrete sidewalks. The smell of rainwater in the sewers, of flowers in the window sills, of staling foods in the bakeries and trash in the alleyways loitered in the cool, damp air.

Oh, Suburbia.

I stared out upon the empty streets, the only noise entreating upon my ears the ones of rowdy, drunken pigs making a ruckus just a floor below me, breaking glass and hollering vulgar obscenities and essentially drowning in their own filth. My skin felt hot and suffocated beneath the intolerably heavy layers of makeup that caked my face and body, the skimpy clothing that barely covered me itchy and uncomfortable and way, WAY too revealing. I felt exposed, vulnerable, and out of place, not to mention sweaty and in dire need of a long, thorough, hot shower. My leg bounced at rapid fire pace, my eyebrows knitted together and my fingers drumming an endless, anxious rhythm as I stared out the open window, wondering,

"_Where the hell are you, Skylar?!"_

As the saying goes, Speak of The Devil and He Shall Appear.

"Ah, Jessica, there you are!" An ecstatic voice boomed from the opposite end of the dressing room.

I whipped around to face him. A tall, muscular, tanned skin man with a charismatic grin, sparkling honey brown eyes and curly light brown hair came over to me. He was dressed in a white business suit jacket and pants, a black dress shirt and expensive looking black loafers; my older cousin, Skylar Hawkinson.

"Yes, Skylar, and here _you _are, twenty two minutes late!" I snapped at him, frustrated and embarrassed and desperate to just leave. The same way I felt every night.

"Sorry, sorry, but you riled them up _really _good this time. That was quite a show; I almost thought you were someone else entirely!"

He praised me.

"I had hoped that would have made you let me leave EARLY tonight, NOT KEEP ME ON FOR THREE MORE SHOWS, YOU ASSHOLE!" I exploded, slapping him. He knew how much I hated this job, and that the only reason I stuck with it was . . . well, that's a story for another time.

He cradled his injured face in his hands, and sent me an apologetic puppy eyed look. "I know, I know, that was totally uncool of me, especially since it was your 17th birthday and everything . . .", "Not to mention being an "Exotic Dancer" here makes me sick to my stomach!" I interjected, "But look, lemme make it up to you – I'll add an 80% interest onto your paycheck and let you have the rest of this year off starting next week. How's that sound?"

I rolled my eyes and shook hands with him, my scowl shrinking to that of a civilized frown of compliant displeasure...

"Fine, just as long as I get to leave now!"

After lending me a pair of baggy sweats and an even baggier hoodie, Skylar gave me the okay to sneak out the back door and onto the street. As I made my way home, the blood red neon sign of the club behind me and the glow of the Blood Moon in the sky in front, I heaved a heavy sigh, knowing that the day was almost over.

My North American suburban town of Mysticia Village was an overall pleasant place, rich with history and very diverse. But it was tightly concentrated, a mini metropolis embedded deep within the mighty bosom of one of Mother Nature's most finely crafted forests of the Midwest. The only way to get out of or come in here was by train. A lot of buildings – no, certain streets were busy, prosperous and shining examples of an ideal town – freshly painted buildings, fully working neon signs, new glass window panes – others were broken, abandoned, and left to be eroded away from existence by the passing sands of time – with their decrepit red brick structures, shattered glass fixtures, and trash loitering about in almost every nook and cranny. I lived on one of the latter streets, in an abandoned apartment complex named "Artisan Paradise" (which closed down permanently after authorities discovered a few years back that it was no longer aspiring artists who lived there, but aspiring prostitutes, murderers, and drug traffickers) on Bellflower Avenue. It was a fairly nice, clean building, seven stories high, and the crème yellow colored paint on the bricks – though plenty faded from their once shimmering, golden color – still held fast to the surface it's painted on. I wired my apartment to have electricity, clean running water, internet, etc. One of the benefits about being forced to work for an older cousin whose legal Gentleman's Club doubles as an _illegal _Black Market hotspot is that names who wind up in said cousin's little black book tend to owe you favors. I reside in the top floor luxury suite, complete with a deluxe studio, master bedroom, kitchen, living room – all the luxuries of a fancy, expensive house and an expensive, deluxe studio mashed up and concentrated into one floor.

After a few minutes of weaving through the back roads and alleyways, I eventually made it to the calm, grimy street that harbored the cozy, formerly aspiring criminal infested place I now called home.

All of the doors and windows were barred up – the only way I could get in was by climbing up the fire escape that led all the way to my balcony. Doing just that, I grabbed my key which I hid underneath the flower box that rested upon the small table in the corner. Once I unlocked and opened the glass paned double French doors, I entered my living room - A 21 ½ ft. by 13 ft. room cluttered with anime, manga, books, movies, dirty clothes, empty ramen cups, and trinkets and mementos from years past. A gallery of drawings, paintings, pictures, and other hang able memorabilia from my life up till this point decorated my walls, a result from my extreme dislike of empty space. Joined with the living room was the studio, where I kept my instruments, computer, sketchbooks and easels, T.V, stereo system, karaoke machine (what can I say, I love to sing!) paints, pencils, pens, and other such artsy/entertainment objects. The walls in there were decorated with colorful murals I painted myself. Walking across the living room over to the foyer, I made a left into the master bathroom. Stripping myself of the sweats and skimpy clothing, I cranked up the hot water in the shower, climbed in, and began to scrub myself raw of the filth and grime that plagued me.

* * *

"Miss Jessica? Miss Jessica? Are you home?" A soft, silver bell like voice echoed from the hallways.

"In here, Aradia." I responded, slouched against the smooth rim of the large bathtub, the hot water and soothing aroma of lavender and vanilla which emanated from the water enveloping me in a sense of blissful relaxation. The door opened, and I watched as a small, petite young girl with pin straight ebony black hair (cascading down to her upper thigh), striking electric blue eyes, and pale ivory skin, dressed in a simple black dress which went down to her knees walked into the room.

"Ah, welcome home, Miss Jessica!" Aradia greeted me, flashing a smile that could melt even the coldest of hearts – I mean seriously, this chick could royally kick Hunny-sempai's ass in a cute contest, no joke!

"Thank you, Aradia" I told her, smiling back.

"I'd ask you how work was, but considering where you were working, I already know that it probably went miserably" she giggled. I've known Aradia since I was young – 3 or 4 years old at least, and ever since I got the job as lead dancer at Skylar's club, she's been there to listen to my constant complaining.

"Yeah, it sucked, and on my birthday no less! But in order to make up for it, Skylar said he'd add an 80% interest to my paycheck for the rest of the summer, and that I won't have to work the rest of this year after my shift next week. Personally, I'd prefer it if he just let me quit, but I guess this could be considered that next best thing." I explained, cracking my stiff, aching neck. Aradia smiled again at the information.

"That's certainly kind of him, Miss Jessica. By the way, I was wondering, where did you put the dispel candy? I've been stuck like this," she gestured to herself, "all day, and I'm really hungry, and I really don't wanna jump out the window and fall and - "

"Aradia, Aradia, calm down. I'll make you some dispel candy once I'm out of the bath, okay?" I cut her off. She nodded in agreement with my plan.

"Okay."

And with that, she left.

As I pulled the plug on the tub and stepped out onto the plush throw rug on the floor, I grabbed one of my soft, fluffy purple towels, and began to dry myself. Wrapping the towel around me, I couldn't help but catch a glimpse of myself in the full body mirror which hung on the wall;

I've been told I could be a world class supermodel by more than one stranger over my life, but I didn't see the big fuss. I mean, don't get me wrong, I like the way I looked – 5'9" tall, a slender, elegant body, flat, toned torso, lean, lithe muscles, generously endowed bust, and tasteful, attractive curves in my legs, waist, hips and rear; I always looked people in the eyes, holding my head high with confidence and dignity, my glossy sable brown hair styled into a short, choppy, tousled bob that – at least in my mind – framed my face perfectly; I had supple, pale rose colored lips and teeth that I kept as pristine and white as flakes of freshly fallen snow (when you're a hopeless romantic like me – or just value yourself in general – you always wanna maintain proper health hygiene in case Mister Right comes knocking on your door for a little smooch time~!) ; The faintest dusting of gossamer pink colored my cheeks, giving them a healthy glow; my skin was clean and soft, like a newborn, and a creamy fair ivory color that almost seemed like that of the petals of a crabapple blossom; mostly people have praised me for my eyes, which were, as Skylar once put it, "two limpid, shimmering pools of frosted silvery green, radiantly glistening with emotion and intelligence, a passionate soulfulness burning with an unfathomable intensity within their crystalline depths" (I should make a note that the day he said this was the day he tricked me into becoming his lead dancer. The guy's a serious smooth talker, watch out.) A lot of people have asked me why I don't get contacts, but I felt more comfortable with my glasses; rectangular shaped frames made of moderately thick, indigo colored plastic.

. . . Okay, maybe I was kind of attractive, I don't know, and I didn't really care. As long as I maintained proper hygiene and I like the way I look, I didn't give a royal damn what other people thought, and if they wanted to compliment me, that was their choice.

I walked out into the foyer again and I followed the patiently waiting Aradia into the living room, then taking a left through the studio into the kitchen. I took out the ingredients and fished through some old recipe books my mother left me, until I came upon it – my Aunt Valerie's special dispel candy recipe. In less than half an hour, I had a jar full of freshly made chocolates that, when looked at closely, kind of resembled Rolo's. I popped a piece into Aradia's mouth and with a puff of smoke, a happy, blue eyed raven sat in front of me.

"Thank you, Miss Jessica! I'll be back soon~!" Aradia chirped (literally! XD) at me.

"You're welcome, and be careful!" I called to her as she flew out the open balcony.

Now, whoever's reading this, I'm pretty sure you're wondering exactly what the holy hell just happened. Well, I'll tell you; Aradia is my pet Raven that I rescued when I was little girl. My Aunt Valerie was a powerful sorceress, who created a spell that turned Aradia into a human girl, and made it so that Aradia could turn human anytime she wanted too. (The catch was that the only way to turn Aradia back into a Raven was through a special dispel candy) The spell also taught her how to speak in human tongue; though it didn't really matter – human or raven, I could understand her, what with me being able to talk to animals and all.

Yeah, I'm not exactly "normal", you see – I was born with special 'talents' as my mom and Aunt Val called them, and one of them allowed me to communicate with all kinds of creatures; Living or Dead.

"Actually, now that I think about it . . . when was the last time I visited them . . . ?" I wondered aloud, exiting the kitchen and glancing at a picture of a group of happy, laughing people, me in the center of them. Not feeling tired and deciding I had nothing better to do, I walked over to the door that led to the master bathroom, made a left into my master bedroom, and then a right into a walk-in closet which I promptly raided for my favorite outfit; A sparkly velveteen purple and black punk rock style corset top, a matching black and purple plaid miniskirt, fishnet stockings, knee high lace-up black army style boots, and my favorite form fitting leather jacket. I gave myself a once over in a mirror, and realized something – I had almost forgotten my pendants!

Running back to the bathroom, I found them lying on the sink, to my relief. Each of the pendants (there were three) held a special significance to me – The first one I put on, dangling from a silver chain, was a sterling silver pentagram with a silver cat perched around a genuine rainbow moonstone in the center. It was a gift my Aunt Val had bought me in an antique store when I was little. The second one, dangling from another, but slightly shorter silver chain, was a sterling silver Star of David, a gem of Baltic Amber welded into the center. This was a family heirloom passed down to me by my father, 4 years before . . . before my Aunt Val adopted me. And finally, dangling from a strong, black silk choker was a pure silver heart, a beautifully intricate floral design engraved into both sides of its surface. This pendant, the most important one, was my mother's last gift to me.

These three pendants were like my talismans, and I never went anywhere unless all three of them were around my neck. Feeling satisfied, I grabbed my sturdy black messenger bag {with a hand bedazzled floral pattern on it done by yours truly~!} and checked to make sure it had all of my essentials. Nodding with assurance that everything was in there, I went out to the balcony, locked the door, placed the key back underneath its flower box (for Aradia when she got home) climbed down the fire escape and made my way to the train station.

Not a lot of people knew it, but a long time ago, Mysticia Village was actually much, MUCH larger than it was today. But after civil disputes and the building of the train station, it got cut it half – The Eastern side prospering into the mini metropolis I – as well as most people – know it as today, and The Western side being left in the ashes of history to decay and eventually be assimilated by the fervent, wildly growing forest that surrounded the town. The only part of that area that people still used as of today was the Misty Whisper's Cemetery. Scaling the gates that guarded the railways and crossing the tracks, I quickly spotted the worn down rustic oak wood bridge that stretched over the small ravine which trickled through the forest, and would lead me to the broken cobblestone pathway that led to the Cemetery entrance. Once I arrived at the locked wrought iron gates, I scaled with the same ease as always, and began traversing down the aisle bordered by a plethora of old gravestones – ashen and decrepit, no longer adorned with gifts of flowers or tokens of remembrance but with weeds, broken promises and a mournful, saddening haze – on one side, and new gravestones on the other, all the way to the farthest end.

A mighty, fully grown Hawthorne tree – its beautiful flowers fermenting the air with their even more beautiful aroma – stood tall, erect and proud, and underneath the shelter of its long, outstretched arms nestled a large tombstone. Engraved upon it were the words:

_Here Lies the Whimsiflora Family_

_Ruth_

___Mother, Wife, Friend_

_____April 20__th__, 1970 – June 6__th__, 2003_

_Xavier_

___Brother, Son_

_____March 12__th__, 2001 – June 6__th__, 2003_

_Noel_

_Brother, Son_

_January 15__th__, 2003 – June 6__th__ 2003_

_You Are All Dearly Loved And Will Be Honored and Remembered. May Your Lives Be As Blessed In Heaven As You Had Made Ours On Earth._

This was the best kept of all the graves, both old and new. Of course, I strived to make it that way.

This _was _my family's grave, after all.

Kneeling down in front of the tombstone, I inhaled the clean air and the scent of the Hawthorne flowers, felt the soft coolness of the grass brushing against my skin, before finally opening my eyes, my gaze mainly centered on the name of my mother, Ruth. {That awkward moment when you want to talk to your dead mother, but your dead brother's are buried right alongside her}

"Hey mom, it's me, Jessica. Well, I did it – I made it to 17 years . . . crazy, huh? What's even crazier is that it's already been 10 years since . . . since you and the boys died . . ."

The familiar stinging mist of unshed tears pricked my eyes, but before they had a chance to escape, something caught my attention:

It was an indiscernible murmur, a buzz, a hum; lively and drastically varied in pitch, tone, rhythm, giving it different levels, and giving those different levels a sort of thin sense of character, personality –

Voice.

A blur of voices.

Standing up, I slung my bag over my shoulder, throwing the grave a gaze of acknowledgement, a silent promise that I was merely pausing my visit in lieu of my – at the moment – insatiable curiosity, before wandering off into the deeper areas of the wild, untamed forest.

It's hard to explain, but the voices seemed to hold some sort of energy, a presence, whose strength called out to me, pulling me towards its source like when a child tugs on his mother's skirt, eager to show her something that the child has invested their full attention and overwhelming abundance of excitement into.

Not one time throughout my expedition deeper into the heart of the forest did I ever receive any remote sense of a feeling of immediate danger; In fact, all I ever received was the thought that the further I ventured towards wherever my destination dwelled, the louder the voices became. Though, even with their increasing volume, they never became any clearer in regards to their legibility.

Even when I was little, my inner clock had always been a bit skewed, so how much time I spent meandering about through the trees and shrubbery and wildflowers is not within my mental collection of what I knew for certain.

Despite that, eventually, I did stumble across something drastically more unusual than the voices themselves –

Breeching a barricade of sycamores, I found myself in a large clearing, and what stood in the middle of it, obvious as sunlight in the daytime, amazed me to no end; a large, decrepit, almost ancient looking Victorian style mansion, the wood aged and rotted into the darkest shade of black, the windows and their shudders which adorned the turrets and the front of the house shattered and barely clinging to the walls with the grip of a few measly rusted hinges. The putrid odor of decay and filth rolled off the property in waves, bricks that once made the roof cracked and falling either through the giant, gaping holes in the ceilings or onto the ground. With the red of the moon hanging directly over the very center of the mansion, the mood of the place felt like a scene straight out of a dark Shakespearean play or one of Edgar Allen Poe's stories.

Were this discovery under average circumstances, I probably would have turned tail and contacted a few of my friends and have them come explore the manor with me. But these weren't average circumstances, and I knew so because the moment my eyes caught this place in my line of vision, the voices that lured me here ceased. So with a hard swallow and a deep, shaking breath, I gripped the strap of my messenger bag and took light, tentative steps towards the already open front doors. The front porch steps creaked under my weight, to be expected since they look like they hadn't been walked on in over a century, but even so I still jumped, my tightening nerves getting the better of me.

Once I made it to through the front door, my nerves began to settle, if only slightly, and the irrefusable force we all know as the power of curiosity compelled me up the grand spiral staircase, through the labyrinth of hallways whose floors were covered with shards of broken glass and shreds of torn up wallpaper and stains of I don't even want to know what, past cobweb coated statues and suits of armor, chandeliers that lay in destroyed heaps, mountains of dust, and tattered, dirty fabrics that hung from walls and lay in piles in the shadows of corners, all the way up to the ever so intriguing hiding place known as the attic.

When I found myself standing among the myriad of objects covered by once pristine white tarps {now an ugly shade of dark grey due to all of the time long gone}, the thundering collaboration of indecipherable voices bombarded me once more, this time with a force so powerful that I ended up stumbling backwards a bit in an attempt to reclaim my balance. The roar of the noise made it near impossible to think, it almost hurt. My sight grew blurry, I frantically flitted my gaze this way and that trying to pinpoint the location of the sounds that burdened me. In the time it usually takes a loose leaf to submit to the force of the Autumn winds and plummet to the ground, my vision cleared and I finally uncovered the source of the noisy murmurs.

A large, full body mirror, it's silver frame ornately crafted into an extravagant array of tribal, nature, and celestial themed designs. The glass surface, superbly maintained and harboring no signs of ever being touched, glistened and shone with the utmost cleanliness and purity; akin to the light of the stars. The oddly flawless artifact stood tall and proud in its place in the center of the room, and slowly I gravitated closer towards it's surreal glory.

A chilled, ominous presence seemed to creep up from behind me, tickling my spine and illicting a sensation of anxious suspense from my nerves as a startling realization slowly dawned on me – nothing, not me nor the objects that surrounded me, hell not even the room the mirror stood in reflected back at me through the glass. The mirror was completely blank.

With a timid demeanor absolutely foreign to me, I stretched out my arm and unfurled my fingers, letting the tips of them carefully graze the very surface of the cold, fragile glass. In response to my touch, the glass rippled, like water of the stillest lake being gently caressed by a whisper of the softest breeze. I retracted my hand, my skin growing cold, my breath becoming ever so shallow and still with the silent, solidifying shock of the moment.

'_When did it become so frigid in here . . . ?' _I whispered in my thoughts, too stunned to say anything aloud. _'It's summer, for goodness sakes!'_

In stark contrast to the languid, frozen atmosphere, all too abruptly a heavy, solid object rammed into me from behind, catching me completely off guard and knocking me forward into the mirror. When my entire body was submerged I began to be rapidly propelled by an overwhelming energy through a vortex of almost blindingly vibrant light at such a dizzyingly high velocity I wasn't sure if I was going to puke or pass out from lack of air first. Though, just as soon as my one woman rollercoaster ride began, it ended, and I collided back first into hard, solid earth. The pain ricocheted through my body and left me feeling sick and irate.

"Ouch! What the fucking hell?!" I exclaimed, my first instinct when in pain being to swear.

There's a reason why people didn't go Freefalling without parachutes – plummeting out of the sky without one hurts like bitch!

After taking in some deep breaths in hopes of replenishing my air supply, I tentatively pushed myself up into a sitting position, whilst still leaning on my hands for support. I first noticed that the air was denser, more muggy, yet pleasantly chilled. Mist that was thick and grey enough to be considered a lighter form of fog blurred most of my surroundings, but from what appeared to be silhouettes of trees and what I made out to be patches of wildflowers scattered everywhere and no discernable trace of a road or any form of civilization, I garnered a hunch that I was once more in a forest of some sort, only this one was much more . . . marshier, and smelled more of rain and mud than flowers and berries. This forest was also much brighter, leading me to believe that it was daytime here, and when looking up at the sky to confirm my suspicions, I found a bleak, opaque gray canvas, meaning that not only was it daytime, but also a high chance of rain. When I finally got up to stand on my feet and dusted myself off, I felt a raindrop kiss my nose, then another my brow. Within mere seconds it began to torrentially downpour on top of me. I merely smiled. Not only did I have a small fondness for being right, but I also greatly enjoyed rain, even more so when the rain was accompanied by a thunderstorm. However, the conditions did not seem right for one. Darn.

Even with the warm rain brightening up my mood some, there still existed the pressing matter that I had absolutely no freaking clue where the heck I was. I looked to my left, looked to my right, but all there remained to see were trees and mist and mud and rain. I opened my mouth to holler, in hoped of someone who might be nearby would hear me . . .

Evidently, the situation reversed itself, and my ears caught the blood curdling scream of a young child, not 30 meters from my right.

Instincts exploded and over rid any rational thoughts in my mind, and my legs broke out into a determined sprint through the forest. Branches scratched at my face and mud splashed my legs and the hem of my skirt, but I paid it no mind. As I tore through some shrubbery, my eyes widened at what lay in front of me – a small lake, or maybe a large pond, in the middle of it a dainty, child-sized hand begin dragged beneath the murky surface of the dark water. In one fluent motion I tossed my messenger bag aside and let it crash into the trunk of a tree, sprinted up to the edge of the small lake/large pond, jumped, and dove straight into the water.

* * *

Wide, graying blue eyes stared helplessly at the body of water, soaked silver hair plastered to pale, barely wrinkled skin. Quickly though, the well dressed, middle aged man quickly overcame his shock and horror, turning around and running off towards an elaborately large and stately looking manor which lay nestled upon the close horizon at the edge of the forest. When he reached the dirt trail that lead to the manor's gates, he was relieved to come across three of the house's servants.

"Ah, Mister Clause, we were just on our way to come get you, yes we were-"

"There's no time for that! Where is he?! Where is that Butler?! My Nephew has just been attacked by some . . . some hideous, beastly animal that dragged him into the pond . . . and then some woman dove in straight after him!"

* * *

I looked around for any sign of the child, barely noticing my being submersed in the water, as the pressure wasn't all that bad and since I had already been thoroughly soaked to begin with there really wasn't any difference. The only signs I was in water at all were the small school of fish which swam around me and the fact I was floating. Oh, and everything I saw was a deep, deep shade of blue. I swam deeper down, and finally, I saw something – two small, fair skinned, pairs of arms and legs flailing desperately as the small body it was attached to was dragged down ward by a ravenous creature that could only be described as the result of Aragog {The Giant Spider from Harry Potter}, The Wolfman {A Character from the Cirque Du Freak Manga}, and Murlough {Another Character from the Cirque Du Freak Manga} having a giant orgy together and one of them somehow managed to birth the monster. I couldn't get a good look at the child's face, but I could catch a glimpse of shimmering dark blue hair. I knew that if I didn't act fast, the child would be a goner. I aimed my hand at the beast, closed my eyes, and concentrated my energy. My hand began to heat up, a familiar vibrating sensation building up, before exploding outward. I opened my eyes just in time to see a large plethora of iridescent lavender orbs rocketing towards the creature and nailing it, causing it to sink deeper into black depths of the water and release the child. I knew this was my chance; swimming quickly towards the kid, I caught their hand in mine and pulled them into my embrace. I could feel from the firm, lean muscles and hard lines that he was a boy, and glancing down at his porcelain skinned doll-like features, I could of sworn that for the briefest of moments I saw a sapphire eye looking up at me. The raging fire that tormented my lungs due to lack of oxygen and the aching pressure of fatigue that began to weigh down my muscles discouraged me from any more dawdling; I looked upwards and saw the surface, so I held the boy close to me and with all the strength and stamina I could muster I swam up towards it.

'_Just few more kicks and we'll be there!' _I encouraged myself.

Unfortunately, the universe happens to be a major fan of making things difficult.

A sharp, searing pain ripped through my shoulder, and glancing down my eyes widened when I saw a clawed . . . something embedded in my left shoulder, and attached to it was a thin . . . tentacle type thing, and attached to that was a now thoroughly pissed off orgy beast, now accompanied by a merry band of his thoroughly pissed off orgy beast friends. My head pounded louder than thunder, my lungs were begging for oxygen, and all my body craved was for a moment's rest. I knew if I wasted one more moment, the boy would most surely be killed. Without a first thought or even a nanosecond of hesitation, I shoved the boy up towards the surface with all that was left of my physical strength, and clenching my eyes tight and concentrating hard, I used my mind to carry his body completely out of the water and gently lay him down on the solid earth. When I finally released my concentration, I could no longer hold control over my body; my oxygen deprived lungs began to fill with water, the monster dragging down my body towards what would now inevitably be my grave. My vision dimmed and blurred, and soon I grew numb to all that surrounded me.

It was just me, all alone in the black nothingness of the universal realm of unconsciousness, floating in an almost blissful state devoid of any and all sensation.

* * *

A petite, delicate young boy of 12 years old lay upon the soft, wet grass as the rain pelted his fair porcelain skin. An incandescent sapphire blue eye slowly opened to gaze at what now surrounded him. Trees . . . grass . . . wildflowers . . . thick mist . . . the boy furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Last he recalled, he had been taking a walk with his uncle Clause, when some hideous creature attacked him and dragged him down into the pond . . . the same pond, the young boy noticed, that sat right in front of him. The young boy frowned, not comfortable with the fact he didn't know how his present situation came to be. Who defeated the beast and pulled him from the water?

"Hey, look who's there!"

"It's the Young Master, he's alive!"

"And completely unharmed, thank God!"

"Ciel, my boy, you're alright!"

Earl Ciel Phantomhive turned, and saw his uncle, Meyrin, Finnian, and Bardroy running towards him. They swarmed him, pulling him uncomfortably close.

"Ah, Young Master, what a relief to see you are alright." Came that all too familiar voice. Ciel wasted no time in breaking free of the arms that clung to him, standing to his feet and looking directly into the scarlet eyes of none other than,

"Sebastian, was it you? Are you the one who pulled me from the water?"

Sebastian Michealis shook his head, his expression becoming as puzzled as his young master felt.

"No, my lord, I only just received the information of your peril from your Uncle not a mere few moments ago. By the time we all arrived, here you were, safe and sound."

Ciel knew Sebastian wasn't lying, and the disturbed him greatly.

"Oh, perhaps it was that young woman!"

Clause explained, standing up and looking around.

"What woman, Sir?" Sebastian asked, perplexed.

"When Ciel was being dragged down into the water by the creature, not mere moments when his hand disappeared did I see a beautiful yet strangely dressed young woman dive straight into the water. But . . . I don't see her anywhere . . ."

Ciel thought about this briefly, before his exposed eye widened in shock. There _had _been a woman down there with him; he remembered the gaze of her striking eyes and the warmth of her kind smile, the feeling of her arms holding him closely as she swam towards the surface, before she let him go . . .

"She's still down there, in the water! The monster must have attacked her!" Ciel exclaimed. He threw his gaze back into Sebastian's eyes.

"Sebastian, this is an order – Save that woman now!"

Sebastian smiled that ever so creepy/alluring smile down at Ciel, before bowing, and replying with the usual "Yes, my lord" followed by him diving straight into the water without a moment's hesitation.

Ciel, Clause, and the Three Stooges – I mean, Servants watched in anticipation for Sebastian. Less than a minute after he disappeared, the black clad ivory figure sprang forth from the water, holding bridal style in his arms a young, beautiful brunette girl who like Clause said was dressed in strange apparel foreign to them all. Sebastian lay her down on the ground, as the rain began to fade away.

". . . Is she dead?" Ciel asked, looking down at her.

"She's swallowed a lot of water, my lord, and she appears to have been injured by the beast. If we don't get the water out of her lungs quickly she will suffocate and die." Sebastian explained.

"NOOOOOOOO! SHE CAN'T DIE! SHE CAN'T! SHE SAVED YOUNG MASTER! WE HAVE TO THANK HER BEFORE SHE DIES! C'MON LADY! WAKE UP! WAKE UP!"

Wailed a hysteric Finnian, who grabbed the girl and began squeezing her, thrashing her around like he was a child in the middle of a temper tantrum and she the unfortunate ragdoll caught in his grasp.

"FINNIAN, IF YOU DON'T STOP THAT YOU REALLY WILL KILL HER!"

Bardroy roared, trying to grab his over emotional friend in hopes of calming him down.

However, Finnian soon stopped of his own accord when the girl in his arms began to violently hack and cough, water and a little bit of blood spurting from her mouth. When her fit subsided, she began to breathe normally, retaining her unconscious state as the color began returning to her skin. Clause couldn't help but grin and give a small chuckle.

"Seems Mister Finnian's thrashing about squeezed all the water out of the girl's lungs, like the juice out of a strawberry."

In the lull of the moment, Sebastian seized the girl from the Gardner's arms and held her bridal style in his own once more, though this time making sure his grip remained firm. Ciel let out the most inaudible sigh of relief as his shoulders slumped and his muscled relaxed.

"Now, the question remains – who exactly is she?" Ciel asked, looking around. "And where on earth has Meyrin run off too?"

"Master Ciel, Mister Sebastian, I found something!" Meyrin called, running towards everyone. She held up a strange black messenger bag, decorated with a floral pattern of multi-colored (and obviously fake) gems of some kind. "It was lying next to a tree over there, yes it was. I can't seem to open it, but I think it might belong to this young woman, I think it does!" She said. Ciel glanced at the strange bag, then at the strange girl.

"Meyrin, you will take that bag to my study and leave it on the floor next to my desk. Sebastian, you will take that girl and put her in one of our guestrooms and then help me re-dress. Finnian and Bardroy, I want you both to stand guard over the girl and notify me the moment she awakens."

Sebastian smirked at his young master. He didn't know what it was for certain, but he knew this much;

Things were going to become greatly intriguing with this girl around.

* * *

_**So? What'd you thihnk? Like it? Love? Lemme know in the comments~! Flames will be used to roast toast marshmellows~!**_


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